Asia > Vietnam > Central Coast > Hanoi > Articles > Hanoi Meals (with Added Bite)

I'm not generally a fussy eater. Indeed, as a rule, I enjoy nothing better than sampling the local cuisine in far flung places. Hence, having been posted to work in Hanoi, I was delighted to be invited to share a meal with a new-found Vietnamese friend, Liem, and honoured when he enthused the meal was to be an official boys night out whereby we would eat, drink beer and talk politics. No doubt, I anticipated, while smacking each other heartily on the back between courses in a gesture of cross-cultural male bonding.

What Liem had failed to mention, however, became all too apparent as we approached the restaurant, a stilt house on Hanoi's Nghi Tam Avenue, just north of the city's Old Quarter. For, as we dismounted from our motorbikes hungrily, we were greeted by the unmistakable yelps of dogs being slaughtered. And, all too suddenly, it became clear to me that the highlight of a boy's night out Viet style was not the beer nor the jovial banter, but the chance to savour fresh dog meat (thit cho).

There were dozens of stilt house restaurants to choose from and as, due to Vietnam's lack of copyright laws, they had all copied each others names ("An Thu" was the most popular), we just chose the one which looked the busiest. As Liem explained, perhaps catching a flash of doubt in my eyes, "When visiting dignitaries come from Saigon, they always eat in this area. Traditionally, we sit on the floor with a view of the countryside. But don't worry, these are wild dogs, not pets. Pet dogs are our friends."

I didn't want to cause offence and I figured I had no right to pass judgement on the Vietnamese penchant to feast on man's best friend before I had even given it a go. Besides, if it was good enough for the Vietnamese cabinet, then it was good enough for me. I duly tucked in.

Hanoi has a fantastic selection of cheap and tasty street food but, as well as traditional favourites bun cha (small barbecued pork burgers served with a bowl of rice noodle vermicelli) and the Hanoi staple, pho (rice noodle soup), goat, dog, snake and rat are also common treats. Some travellers may find this ethically disturbing but the eating of such animals is deeply entrenched in Vietnamese culture and an invitation to share in a feast of Hanoi's unusual street eats is to be considered a rare honour.

The favourite leftfield eatery amongst tour parties is the Le Mat snake village, 4km over Chuong Duong bridge in Hanoi's Gia Lam district. Le Mat is home to a slew of snake meat restaurants (and assorted other animals come to mention it) which play up to the tourist dollar with elaborate histrionics. As such, the restaurants of Le Mat are, in relative terms, quite pricey; the Vu Thanh Hai, owned by the survivor of a snake attack with a gnarled hand to prove it, is probably pick of the bunch. But, if you are elected guest of honour, beware. After the waiter has split and drained the blood from the snake, you will be expected to swallow the still pumping heart. Local Vietnamese swear by its alleged amphetamine properties.

Another unusual eatery, albeit one frequented more by locals than tourists, is Khoa where the speciality du jour is tiet canh ngan (frozen goose blood served with liver, peanuts and lemon juice) swiftly followed by bun ngan (goose bottom with noodles). Geese are hung with freshly-cut throats from 6am and the drained blood kept fresh in the fridge until the lunchtime rush arrives. Goose blood is also apparently considered a delicacy for couples on first dates. Any self-respecting Vietnamese girl is, I was reliably informed, desperate for a night of goose blood followed by a lift home on the souped-up Honda Dream of a genuine tro lai, a biker gang leader.

Back at the stilt house restaurant, Liem was busy explaining that dog is a traditional feast in Northern Vietnam, eaten mostly in winter towards the end of the lunar calendar month and on special festival days - the Vietnamese equivalent of a Thanksgiving turkey or a Christmas goose. According to popular Vietnamese mythology, he told me, it's believed the dog meat is warming, will bring good luck and is eaten when old friends are reunited.

Meanwhile, a seemingly never-ending series of courses arrived: steamed and sliced dog pate (luoc), grilled dog meat hunks (cha nuong), dog meat served with green banana and tofu (rua man). It kept on coming and, with each mouthful, I found it harder to drown my doubts with glasses of the local brew, bia hoi. The taste, the texture and the sounds of Fido being skinned as we chewed on his cousin were all too much. I needed air. Fast.

Liem and I never returned to the dog restaurant, instead feasting on pho at bustling street kitchens and once sampling rice-paddy fed rat (surprisingly like chicken and really quite palatable). During my stay, I found that Vietnam has some of the world's best, cheapest and most unusual street food, but vowed that, if dog is the taste of Vietnamese celebration, I'd be out of town for the next big festival. For me, an aversion to eating dog is for life, not just for Christmas.

• More from David Atkinson